Quicksilver
by quintessential-dreamer
Summary: "The person is tall and slim, and oh, how his skin shimmers! It emits some sort of unearthly glow even in the darkness. The person shifts slightly, and part of his face is lit up by the shaft of light entering through the crack in the barn door - Blaine hasn't seen anyone that beautiful before." originally written for klaine au friday


The moon is high in the sky when Blaine sees, in the distance, a flash of silver darting across the corner of his eye. When he turns to look, he sees only the darkness and the serene quiet of a windy April night. The grounds are empty, the barn stands silent; the only sound is the gentle rustling of leaves in the trees. He peers through the gloom at the barn, where he thinks was where the silver mystery disappeared. It looks innocent though, the doors shut and the moonlight glancing off its thatched roof. He's probably just imagining things. _I must be really tired_, he thinks.

He is standing by the window in his room, looking out at the starry night sky. He can't sleep, and the cool breeze that caresses his face is surprisingly soothing. It's been a long day of work at the farm, and he's aching all over, but somehow he doesn't feel the least bit tired. Judging by the length of the shadows, it must be slightly past midnight. _I should go check and see that no one's broken in, _he says to himself absently, but he's far too lazy… and he's starting to feel rather drowsy. He stares out of the window for a while longer; all is still. So he pads away softly, lies down in bed and shuts his eyes.

He sleeps easy, and dreams of glowing, indefinable creatures revolving around him like a whirlwind of stars, gleaming silver.

The next night, he is again gazing mindlessly out of the window when he notices a glint flickering across his field of vision. He stays very still, perks his ears open and focuses his gaze intently on the barn. He is sure that's where the light disappeared. It is brighter today, the light cast by the languid moon stronger than the last night's. He doesn't see anything, though.

After contemplating for a few seconds, he decides that _I've nothing to do anyway_, so he slips on his britches and creeps down the stairs. His parents are fast asleep in their room, and he can hear Cooper snoring lightly as he tip toes down the stairs, making sure to leap past the creaky step so he doesn't wake the house. The dogs are curled up by the kitchen, and they shift slightly as he passes. He pushes the front door open (they don't have locks around here, in the village; everyone knows everyone and gets along well with everyone). He shoves on a pair of boots and jogs slowly towards the barn. When he reaches, though, the large doors are still shut tight. He pushes them open carefully, wary not to startle a possible vagabond who thought he could get away with making camp in the Anderson barn. _That wouldn't explain the silver, though. _

However, when he enters the barn, even all the animals are fast asleep. There doesn't seem to have been any kind of disturbance. It smells warm and homey, and he suddenly realizes how absurd it is for him to be out here in the pitch darkness when even the world is dead to the night. Shaking his head, he trudges out of the barn and back up to the house. _So much for trying to be a hero, _he tells himself chidingly, but truthfully, he just wants some sort of action going on in his drab, drab life.

He lays in bed, thoughtful, and doesn't fall asleep till the shadows have lengthened.

He forgets about the silver sightings in the following weeks that come to pass. It is busy season on the farm, and there is much work to be done. He wakes up at 4am each day at the crow of the rooster, and works till way past sundown. He plows the fields, works the horses, and occasionally helps his father at threshing grain, which is a mostly silent affair with a few grunts here and there. Work is tiring, and every night he sleeps heavily, in dreamless slumber.

On the eve of May Day, visitors stream into the village to attend the annual fair, and his mother makes the decision to rent out Blaine's room to one of the foreigners for the money, even if they don't exactly need it at the moment. Blaine doesn't get a say in this, and so grumpily moves to sleep in the barn when a blonde hair blue-eyed stranger takes over his room for the night.

He wakes, suddenly, in the middle of the night, startled to a sitting position by what he can't remember. He can vaguely register clumps of hay surrounding him, and the stuffy smell of confined animals. When his vision clears, he can make out a slender figure standing at the entrance of the barn.

The person is tall and slim, and oh, how his skin shimmers! It emits some sort of unearthly glow even in the darkness. The person shifts slightly, and part of his face is lit up by the shaft of light entering through the crack in the barn door.

Blaine hasn't seen anyone that beautiful before.

The person's face is angular and his cheek bones high and delicate. His nose is just the slightest bit pointy. His skin is impossibly pale and clear, even from the distance, and his coiffed hair is a gleaming coppery brown, with streaks of lighter, golden strands. His one ear is tapered to a point, unnaturally sharp, like an elf's. And his eyes – the one Blaine can see is wide and a deep shade of violet.

Blaine's mouth is hanging open, transfixed by the exotic creature standing before him. Because no human could possibly be this flawless. He makes to move, and the creature's eyes widen in fear.

"Wait!" Blaine cries, his voice piercingly loud in the quiet, shocking even himself, but the creature has turned and fled, leaving the barn door swinging slowly on its hinges. He scrambles unceremoniously to his feet and races over to where the person once stood. He runs out of the barn, but all he can see is the rolling fields of his father's farm. The person is gone.

For the next few days, Blaine stays up much later than usual, in hope of seeing that person, or creature, whatever he was, again. A day passes, then two, then three, to no fruition, and Blaine starts to feel desperate. Their visitor is moving out soon, at the end of the week, and he's sure his mother would be very confused if Blaine requested to sleep in the barn for longer. He can't focus on work properly anymore; all his thoughts are centred on the ethereal being that crept into the barn.

Sometimes Blaine contemplates the reality that he might never see him ever again, and is ashamed of the tears that prick the corner of his eyes.

His fears are unfounded, though; on the day of his last night in the barn, he encounters him for the second time.

He awakes, in a fashion similar to before, and sees the person staring at him from behind a partition. His head is peering out cautiously, eyes wide, and he seems braced to run should Blaine prove hostile.

"Hey," Blaine says gently, voice hoarse from lack of use, feeling nervous himself. "I, um, I won't hurt you." He gets slowly to his feet, flailing a little when he wobbles, still disoriented from sleep.

The stranger lets out a tiny giggle, high and clear and melodic, and Blaine feels a swooping low in his stomach. He walks over to where the stranger is standing; the stranger no longer seems afraid, and his mouth is pulled into a slight smile. His violet eyes are laughing, glinting mischievously. Blaine can't help the grin that widens on his face.

As he goes closer, he starts feeling slightly heady, because that first time seeing the person from afar surely gave him no justice. He is even more beautiful now, from up close, and Blaine can see the swirls in his eyes, and the spiky length of his eyelashes.

"Um," he gulps, his words catching in his throat when the stranger tips his head down coyly and peers at Blaine from under his eyelashes. "Do you, um, have a name?" he asks, voice strangled.

Subconsciously he knows how surreal this is, trying to make acquaintance with a stranger who's probably been breaking into his barn every night for weeks already, goodness knows doing what.

"You can call me Kurt," the person says almost teasingly, and the sound of his voice makes Blaine feel heady and weightless, as if he is flying.

"Blaine," he manages to say, and Kurt presses his lips together as if he's trying not to smile. That makes Blaine feel all flustered, because, goodness, he's talking to a person who would be beauty personified, and all he can do is stutter and make a complete fool of himself.

"Hello, Blaine," Kurt says pleasantly, and he's definitely laughing now.

Now Blaine's very close, and they are almost face to face. Blaine can see the coppery dusting of fur on the tips of Kurt's ears, and wonders why he isn't scared.

"What are you doing here?" Blaine blurts out, and curses himself even before the sentence fully leaves his lips.

"You have milk," Kurt replies, as if this should be obvious. Upon seeing the confused look glancing across Blaine's face, he gestures to the back of the barn, to the entrance of where the milk storage vat is kept. "I like drinking milk," he continues, shrugging, and lets his eyes fall bashfully. Blaine feels another swoop in his stomach.

He suddenly feels annoyed by the wooden partition between them, which reaches up to his shoulders. "Do you want to come out from behind there?"

Kurt's eyes twinkle, and he smiles as if sharing an inside joke with someone. "If you want me to," he teases.

"Yeah," Blaine breathes, "okay."

Kurt laughs and turns around. When he slips out from behind the partition, Blaine can see why he was hiding. Kurt is naked. Every inch of his skin is exposed, creamy ivory that emits the faintest glow in the gloom. Blaine's breath catches in his throat, and he can't help running his eyes across Kurt's body. He's very lithe, all slender with no hint of fat anywhere, and his skin is pulled taut over the faint ripple of muscle. Heat pools at the base of his stomach, and he can feel himself getting hard.

Kurt doesn't seem at all self conscious, standing very still with his legs shoulder width apart, almost as if posing for Blaine's eyes. There is a satisfied smile gracing his face. After a while, he moves over to Blaine, and even his movements are graceful. He comes close, and lifts to place a hand on Blaine's shoulder, through his night shirt. The heat of contact is palpable, and Blaine can feel a shiver run through his body.

"Thank you for being so hospitable," he sings dreamily, and Blaine is entranced by the depths of his eyes, "your farm's milk is delicious. I'll see you here tomorrow?"

Blaine can't quite believe what he's hearing, but he nods vigorously anyway. "Of course," he whispers, more than a little breathless. Kurt laughs again, the sound a balm to Blain's ears, and he lets his hand fall. Blaine feels acute disappointment at the sudden loss of contact, and there is a sharp pang in his heart.

"Goodbye, Blaine," Kurt lilts, and slips past Blaine and disappears out of the door.

Blaine turns, feeling empty; Kurt's departure has brought down the mood considerably. But then he thinks of _tomorrow night _and _Kurt wants to see me again, _and feels much better as he lies back down to sleep.

That night, his dreams are filled with a certain purple-eyed person, dancing and laughing and singing in his high, breathtaking falsetto.

The next night, Kurt is waiting for him when he eagerly enters the barn (May Day week is over, and Blaine has finally gotten his room back).

"You're here," Kurt says, his eyes lighting up, sounding excited. Blaine feels a frisson of delight, pleased that Kurt seems to have looked forward to this moment as much as Blaine did.

Kurt runs a tongue deliberately over his slightly milky lips, and the motion is so erotic Blaine has to look away. Kurt stands up from the crate on which he had been sitting, and Blaine suppresses a gasp upon seeing the full length of his body again, but instead of walking over to Blaine, he walks over to a single box stall where a mare is sleeping.

"Why is she here?" Kurt asks, sounding concerned.

Blaine doesn't take time to think about the strange, and frankly unexpected, question. "She's ill, so she isn't kept in the stables with the rest of the horses."

"Poor thing," Kurt croons, extending his arm to stroke the mare's mane. She stirs and snorts slightly, but doesn't buck at Kurt's touch. Kurt sounds unnecessarily sad. "She's so beautiful."

"She is," Blaine agrees, confused as to where the conversation is heading.

Kurt abandons the horse and turns to Blaine, erasing his sorrowful expression with a teasing smile. "How was your day?" he asks, and his voice is different from before. Now it is more slurred, lower than before, and maybe the slightest bit flirty. Kurt sidles up to Blaine and, with a knowing smile, takes his hand.

Blaine can't help the gasp this time. There are tingles running up his arm, and Kurt's hand is so, so cold. Kurt stares purposefully into his eyes as he slowly intertwines his fingers with Blaine's; their hands fit together perfectly. "Come sit," he urges, as he tugs Blaine over to the pile of crates. Blaine sits down warily, and Kurt settles down next to him, letting go of his hand, but then sitting far too close for _just friends, _Blaine thinks, but he's not complaining. Kurt's bare thigh is almost brushing against his clothed one, and their shoulders are pressed together intimately. Kurt turns to him with a brilliant grin.

"Tell me about your day," he instructs, and so Blaine does.

When the conversation ends, Kurt stands up abruptly. Blaine wants to protest, but decides that would be obsessively whiny. "I must go," Kurt says, sounding regretful. He meets Blaine's eyes, blinking deliberately, dipping his head to look up from under his lashes. "You're nice," he slurs, voice low and the littlest bit shy. "Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Of course," Blaine responds immediately, feeling breathless.

Kurt's smile widens, and it is dazzling to see such pure, unadulterated joy. "Thank you," he says, before slipping out of the barn and leaving.

Their next few meetings are equally magical. Kurt always takes his hand at least once, and always lays his hands on Blaine's shoulders or thigh, and once, even carelessly drifted his hand across the side of Blaine's waist.

On the fifth meeting, Kurt lifts his hand to cup Blaine's cheek, letting his palm smooth over the tanned, weather-beaten skin, then trailing his fingers down the side of Blaine's face to his chin, staring into Blaine's eyes all the while, his fingers lingering for far too long.

On the sixth meeting, Kurt takes Blaine's hand and presses it intimately to his bare chest, over his heart. Blaine can hardly hear him speak over the rushing in his ears, and the furious pounding of his heart. "Thank you for keeping me your secret," Kurt whispers, and Blaine feels his head spinning, but in a good way. When Kurt releases his hold, Blaine takes the chance and lets his hand stay, resting, on Kurt's chest. He cautiously runs his fingers over Kurt's sternum, his ribs, to rest on the side of Kurt's hip. Kurt's eyes follow his hand, and then he looks up into Blaine's eyes and smiles, eyes glowing even more than usual. "I like that," he says simply, and Blaine can almost feel his heart expanding with happiness.

On the seventh, Kurt is waiting urgently when Blaine enters the barn.

He runs to Blaine, for the first time, and takes both his hands in his for the first time. "You're here," he breathes, his happiness layered with something else that sets Blaine's heart beating fast, like a hummingbird's wings. He releases both hands to frame Blaine's face, running his gaze all over, as if committing it to memory.

"You're very beautiful, for a human," Kurt purrs, and now the want in his tone is clearly discernible.

"Not as beautiful as you," Blaine replies. He is nervous, unsure of what to do when Kurt is like this, so… _hungry_. He can't repress the thrill that runs through him, though, when Kurt pulls their faces even closer together.

"I can't vouch for that," Kurt says, voice husky. His hands leave Blaine's face, trailing down the slope of his jaw, down his neck, then running over the coarse fabric covering his shoulders and chest.

"So many layers," he murmurs, almost disapprovingly. He glances back up to Blaine. "Do you trust me?"

"Without a doubt."

And so Kurt grips Blaine's shoulders tight, and leans forward to press their lips together.

Blaine's lips part instinctively, letting Kurt's mouth circle around his upper lip. Kurt sucks gently on his lip at first, and Blaine is embarrassed at the moan that escapes past his throat. He leans forward into Kurt's body, pushing their chests and legs almost flush, and he can feel Kurt hard against his thigh. The knowledge causes a flaring heat to rise up within him, and he chafes his lips against Kurt's forcefully, eager for more. One of Kurt's arms slide down to the small of his back to pull him even closer, the other snaking around the back of his head. Their lips tear apart for a moment, the both of them breathing heavily, staring into each other's eyes hungrily, before Blaine presses back in and crushes their mouths together. His own arms move to wrap around Kurt's waist, and the cool bare skin feels so _good. _Kurt's tongue slips into his own, guiding him, and Blaine never knew kissing could be this good.

Then they break apart, and Kurt's hands are at his hips, at his suspenders, deftly undoing the buckles, and both fear and pleasure run through him like bolts of electricity. He automatically pulls the straps over his shoulders, and Kurt pulls at the hem of his shirt, ripping it over his head, before pressing his mouth into Blaine's neck, nipping the skin there. Blaine arches his back and jerks his head back, letting out a groan. Kurt's fingers run voraciously over his bare skin, skimming over his shoulders, brushing across his chest, smoothing the skin over the hard muscles of his stomach, and then his fingers hook into the loops in Blaine's belt, and –

When it is over, they lie, side by side, sweaty and sticky and panting on the dusty floor of the barn, broken short stems of hay strewn all over the ground and stuck to their damp, glistening skin. Blaine feels all glowing inside, satisfied and contented and _wow but that was just amazing. _Kurt twists around to rest his chin on Blaine's chest. His eyes are bright, the sheen of sweat on his face making his skin seem even more luminous than before..

"You are so very beautiful, " Kurt slurs appreciatively, "and not just for a human," he adds.

Blaine hums contentedly in response. Kurt giggles quietly, smiling.

"Sleep," he whispers to Blaine, kissing his eyes shut. As Blaine feels himself drifting off to sleep, he swears he can hear Kurt murmur a regretful "goodbye, Blaine".

He wakes up alone, still naked, the sun streaming in through the tiny windows high up in the barn and hurting is eyes. He stands up, about to look for Kurt, when he sees silver glinting off one of the crates. There are silver words painted on it in elegant cursive script. _Thank you for the past week, it was amazing knowing you. You are truly beautiful, and one of a kind. Kurt. _Blaine reaches out a finger tentatively and dabs into the silver. It stays, thick and shimmering, on his finger, and when he licks it tastes like blood, with the familiar iron tang.

He puts on his clothes and returns up to the house before anyone notices he is missing, making sure to scrub the blood away before he leaves.

For the next two weeks, even though he knows deep in his heart he's wasting his time, he returns to the barn at the same time every night, waiting for the familiar pealing laughter and cold grasp of his hand.

Kurt is never there, though, and gradually, Blaine stops waiting.


End file.
